


Kiss by the Book

by Perrault



Category: Sicario (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:15:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5015077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perrault/pseuds/Perrault
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fathers don't look at their daughters the way you look at me."</p><p>His head snaps around and his eyes meet hers. "I don't look at you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss by the Book

Kate wakes to the sound of a heart monitor. The hospital room is like every other she's ever seen before. She can hear the nurses outside, chattering to each other in a mix of Chicano Spanish and English. She can tell without looking the door is closed. She fumbles for the remote with the call button.

"The house was wired."

She drops the remote, and her eyes dart to the only dark corner of the room. Alejandro steps out of the shadows. His beard is gone. She inventories a pale tan jacket laid over a chair and notices it matches his pants. 

"I told you to move away," he says evenly, without inflection. 

Kate tries to speak but Alejandro holds up a single finger, before walking over to her bedside table and pouring her a cup of water from the pitcher. He sits on the bed beside her as she drinks it. 

"Reggie's fine," he says, and Kate nods. She wordlessly holds out the cup again, and Alejandro refills it. She sucks down the water greedily, and when it is gone, Alejandro replaces it on the table. He is about to stand when Kate's hand shoots out and seizes his wrist. He stares at it, and she retreats, but he sits back down again. 

"You said I reminded you of your daughter," she croaks. Her lips are dry, and they crack and bleed with the effort. 

He nods, pensively, avoiding her gaze. 

She huffs. "Fathers don't look at their daughters the way you look at me."

His head snaps around and his eyes meet hers. "I don't look at you." 

"You do," she whispers, her eyes bright. 

"No," he shifts until he's leaning over her, one hand on either side of her hospital issued pillow. "Macer--" 

She laughs. It's hysterical and ugly and broken sounding. "Macer? You held a gun under my chin and forced me to sign my soul away, don't act as though we aren't on a first name basis."

He pauses, his eyes roving over her face. "Kate," he says, and it feels heavy on his tongue. "I don't look at you."

She stares at him, and nods slowly. "I know," she says, and a tear rolls down her cheek. "I wish you did." 

He stares. 

"I wish you did," she says again, and her voice is stronger now. "So that I could know, you son of a bitch, that I had something on you. That you didn't just fuck me up, force me to abandon my integrity, and walk away like it was nothing." Her hands are grasping desperately at her blankets, and the IV needle stands up boldly against her skin as she clenches her fists. 

"I wasn't a wolf," she spits. "But I was a good, loyal hound, and I did what I was told. Until Matt showed up and spun my head so damn hard round that I don't even know who I answer to anymore." 

The tears are coming harder now. "You took away everything I knew to be true. You. Killed. Children."

She scrubs a hand viciously over her face, snatching it away when he tries to catch it. "The wife I understood, clearly she knew, she was to blame. But the boys," and here her voice finally cracks. "Why did you have to kill the boys?"

"Kate," he says, grabbing her chin and tightening his grip when she tries to pull away. "If I hadn't, someone else would have. And they would have been far less delicate about it than me." 

He strokes her cheek. "They didn't suffer. It was like going to sleep."

Her lip trembles. "They must have been so scared."

He traces small circles at the corner of her mouth. "Yes."

Her breaths come quick and hard, and there is a faint whine at the back of her throat when he slides a hand into her hair. 

"Kate, I don't look at you," he breathes. "I would never look at you. You're clean."

She shakes her head, and his hand tightens against her scalp. "Not anymore. I'll never be clean again."

His gaze falls like a leaden weight to stare at her mouth. He leans in until he can feel her breath against his cheek, then presses his lips to hers. 

It is not a soft kiss. It is gentle, but firm and insistent. Kate had wondered what the phrase "to kiss by the book" had meant until now. Instructive, tender, restrained, and with a subdued heat.

He doesn't groan when she bites him, but he pins her hand to the mattress when she tries to run her fingers through his hair. 

His kisses travel down her throat, his lips latching on at her pulse point, and when they move on, there is a dime sized, ruby-colored bruise left behind. 

He releases her hand and jerks her blankets off her legs and lower body. Her legs part of their own accord, and his hand dips between her knees to trace patterns against the soft skin of her inner thigh. He's kissing her mouth again, pulling away, chuckling beneath his breath as her lips chase his own. His hand stills when he reaches her cleft and finds no resisting fabric. She doesn't blush, it's too late for blushing. 

"The staff took everything," she whispers. 

He nods slowly, his eyes on hers, his pupils blown wide, the irises a thin gold band. He pets her, gently, skimming his calluses fingers lightly over her folds. He parts her delicately and is greeted by a hitched gasp.

"Please," she says, and he begins to withdraw. "No, no. Please, don't stop. It's just...it's been a while."

"Okay." He slides a single finger into her, slowly working her open. After a minute or so, he adds another and a few minutes later, a third. 

Kate is almost sobbing, her hands scrabbling for purchase at the sheets. 

He flicks at her clit lazily with his thumb, then presses down, working her with tight firm circles. 

When she comes, and it is unlike anything she has been able to give herself in years, she locks her knees against his arm, and lets out a low, keening groan as his finger continue to twist and rotate inside her. 

A moment later, he's pulling away, licking his fingers as he goes. He stands up, and pulls a small camera phone out of his pocket. He reaches behind her and unties the neck of her gown before jerking it down so that her breasts are exposed. He presses his damp fingers to her lips. "Don't move," he says. 

Standing at the foot of her bed, he holds up the phone and begins to take snapshot after snapshot. Her legs slightly bent, a massive haematoma crowning her right knee, her pussy on display, bandages wrapped around her lacerated forearms, and her breasts pale and wan looking under the fluorescent lights, she is a miserable sight to behold. But her eyes are bright and defiant, and her mouth is a hard, livid line. 

When he is finished, he covers her again with her blankets, but doesn't fix her gown. He sits beside her on the bed again, and places a palm lightly over her heart. 

"What are you going to do with those?" She asks, quietly. 

"Keep them."

"Until?"

"Until what?"

"Until I misbehave again?" 

He exhales slowly. "No, Kate. I don't think you'll ever misbehave again."

She nods. Then looks at him again, her eyes shining and hard. "Are you Medellìn?"

He pauses. "Medellìn, is a city, not a man."

"Medellìn is both, and a cartel besides. Are you him? Are you working on contract with the United States government to manipulate the trans-American drug trade into self destruction?"

He says nothing, but his hand drops to roll a rosy nipple between his index and middle fingers. He pinches it, gently. "There are questions it is better you do not ask." 

He pinches it again, this time not so gently. "Understood?"

She nods. 

He stands, and throws his jacket over his arm. He presses his fingers to his lips, then briefly touches her forehead. 

"I'll see you later, Kate," he says, and he opens the door before stepping out and closing it softly behind him.


End file.
